


The Need for Comfort

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Langauge, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Spoilers Through "This Sorrowful Life", Spoilers Through 3x15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl knows he doesn't need to be alone. (Spoilers through Season Three)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Need for Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> So, I said I was going to post a lot in January and I'm working on several longer fics that just...keep getting longer! At least one of them should be out soon, but I still wanted to give everyone a short little Rickyl moment while I go back to my working on the long fics. Hope everyone enjoys!

The night after Merle dies, Daryl can’t stand to be alone. But even though he recognizes within himself the need for company, he tries to ignore it. When the sun goes down and the prison quiets, he takes first watch despite Hershel’s complaints and Rick’s worried glances. And when Carol reaches for him to stop him or to tell him that she’s going with him--he’s not sure which--he shakes her off angrily and storms outside.

The quiet night air is better, easier to breathe in than the heavy prison atmosphere filled with the anticipation of tomorrow’s war. He sits at watch for a long while, trying to drown his thoughts out with the moans of the Walkers in the yard and the fluttering of moths. For awhile, he mostly succeeds, but Merle is still there in the back of his mind, cauterized in with that last final look in his eyes. Daryl swallows and tastes metal and acid.

He tries to let his mind go blank like it’s so used to doing these days--don’t think about Lori or T Dog or Sophia or any of them, don’t think about Rick’s glassy eyes, don’t think about Woodbury knocking at the door, don’t think about bullets and teeth and now...now, don’t think about Merle’s eyes. Daryl curls into himself and then he straightens himself up. He shifts restlessly, stands and paces, sits. The words keep pouring out over and over in his mind-- _I just want my brother back_. Fuck him. Fuck Merle.

Daryl misses him so goddamn much.

When the shift is over at midnight, he is both saddened and relieved. Glenn takes over and Daryl pushes past him before he can open his mouth. No one has words for this. He goes into the prison, into the loft and falls down on the mattress he has shoved there. He listens to the sounds of sleep--Carol’s heavy sighing, the almost-snores of Maggie, Judith’s quiet shifting.

Daryl squeezes his eyes shut and tries to drift off, but sleep won’t come. He shifts on the mattress restlessly and counts minutes by the cycling whirlwind of his thoughts. Like orbits they revolve, the calm blankness pierced by the red-hot gouge of Merle’s actions replaced by the blankness as Daryl forces it down. And then back again.

So he stands up. Because it’s two a.m. and his defenses are shattered, little diamonds of glass falling uselessly in his mind. He walks down the stairs and he stands there, one foot on the last step. When it comes down to it, there are only two ways he can go. He thinks of Carol, of her warm reassurances, how she damn well gets it and how she won’t judge him for any of this. But how she pities him, too. How she feels sorrow on his behalf, wants to connect, to hash it out and make it all better.

So he goes to Rick. He slinks in the cell and he walks up to the mattress, even though he knows he shouldn't, even though he knows this is _starting something_. They have never done this before. Daryl has never even set foot in here. But despite all of that, Rick reaches for him, because of course Rick is awake and right there.

They don’t say anything, but in the darkness, Daryl lays down and Rick shifts to the wall to give him space. On the small expanse of the mattress, they are pressed close together and Daryl puts his back to Rick. Rick sets his arm on Daryl’s hip ever so slightly and then, like a bucket tipping over, like heavy clouds finally raining, like the broken out tremors of an earthquake, Rick slides his arm around Daryl’s waist and pulls Daryl toward him.

Daryl sighs, both happy and sad and lets his body release all its tension, lets himself go boneless and weak and vulnerable right there with Rick. And Rick supports him, holds him through it, gathers Daryl up like he is paper origami. Daryl closes his eyes and this time, he doesn’t force his mind to go blank. He lets all of his thoughts tumble together, tangled and jagged. He lets the words sink into his brain like stone into mud-- _I just want my brother back_. And then other words. Words he’s said-- _you’re family, too_ \--and words Rick has said-- _I need you_. And somehow, by dawn, it’s okay. It will never be alright. It will never be good and Merle will always be a void in him somewhere, something lost along the way, a missing piece of his soul. But he has new pieces, too. He has Rick. And he has the rest of his family sleeping here in this cellblock. He can stand up and move on. He can heal.

After that, Daryl never sleeps alone.


End file.
